He Never Left
by Emador
Summary: Davey hits it off with one of Medda's girls, but is she ready for someone like him? One-shot. [repost; originally published summer 2015].


_Author's Note: I wrote this story in the summer of 2015, but had subsequently taken it down when I found out there had been other sites mirroring . Luckily that has passed, and I will be reposting all of my old stories! My apologies to my followers who will be bombarded with "New Story/Chapter" alerts. Enjoy!_

* * *

By the time I met Davey Jacobs it was too late. Too late for anything to happen between us. Too late for me to be any sort of respectable lady. Too late for him to not fall in love.

I'd seen him a few times before we officially met. He came in with Jack Kelly to hide out from Snyder one time. He was at the Newsies Rally, addressing a crowd of over three thousand before Jack showed up. Poor boy nearly had an anxiety attacking from that. After that night, I never gave him a second thought. He was just another boy in a city of men.

But then he came back. He never came in through the front - Medda would never let him pay for a show. He would always come in through the stage door, sometimes with Jack, and sometimes alone. He would stand in the wings and watch the show with that big, innocent grin. Sometimes during a turn in a dance number, I'd throw him a grin or a wink. I sort of enjoyed seeing him blush and shrink back.

Whenever I'd exit the stage, he would shuffle back, as if he weren't allowed near us dancers. He would always reach for his hat to take it off, even if his hat was already in his hands.

Jack told me he came from a real family - a mother, a father, a brother.

I didn't actually meet him until Christmas Eve. Medda decided to throw a big party for the newsies with free food and entertainment. I had seen Davey in the crowd earlier in the night. I saw him again as I was walking off stage after a dance number.

"Hello," he said, reaching to take his hat off, even though he had none.

"Hi," I grinned. "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you." I raised an eyebrow. He lightly shook his head. "Sorry. I meant Merry Christmas. I'm David. David Jacobs."

"Nice to meet you, David David Jacobs." He grinned and blushed. "I'm Rosie."

"I know. I mean," he closed his eyes as if mentally berating himself, "nice to meet you, Rosie."

He looked me straight in the eye when he spoke, yet when he didn't, he looked off to the side. It was clear he was used to looking down, but he kept his eyes off my costume. How cute.

I stood for a moment. When it was clear he either didn't know what to say or how to say it, I winked at him and walked toward my dressing room.

"I just wanted to," he called after me. I turned and saw him swallow his cowardice. "I just wanted to give you this." He held up a single, perfect red rose, tied with a red ribbon. The rose trembled from his hand, which was adorable.

I smiled. "Thank you, David." I took the rose. I gave him a kiss on the cheek and walked back to my dressing room, careful to not open the door all the way. He didn't need to see the three giant bouquets of roses already sitting in there and feel insignificant about his small gift.

"What's that?" asked a voice as soon as I closed the door.

I jumped and turned. When I saw who it was, I sighed. "You scared me," I said, putting my hand over my heart. "What are you doing here anyway?"

He stood up, his winter coat hung on his arm. "I see you got the flowers," he gestured to the bouquets in crystal vases around the room.

I nodded. "They're beautiful, thank you."

"I hope you accept my apology," he said.

"I don't remember you apologizing."

He stepped forward and lightly brushed the back of his fingers against my cheek. I steeled myself against his charms. I refused to fall for him again. He had shown his true colors before, and he would again.

"I want you to know that I am going to take care of this," he said. "I'm going to take care of you. You and the baby will want for nothing."

I clenched my jaw. I would not fall for it.

"I can get you an apartment, and all your needs will be taken care of," he said. "Even a nanny for the baby."

I frowned. "An apartment? A nanny?!"

"Of course," he said as if it should have been obvious.

I felt the tears sting my eyes. "You mean you're not...we're not..." I turned away. I would not cry in front of him.

He chuckled, which was the cruelest thing he could have done in the moment. "Did you think I would marry you?" He chuckled again.

"Get out," I whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"Get. Out." He heard me that time.

He scoffed. "Fine." He walked to my dressing room door. "Then don't expect any help from me."

He slammed the door so hard my mirror shook.

* * *

Two weeks later, all the bouquets were gone. I had thrown them in the dumpster before they even died. I had pawned the crystal vases and hid the money. Midwife services weren't free.

The only rose that remained in my dressing room was a single rose tied with a red ribbon, hanging upside down to the side of my mirror. For some reason, I couldn't bear to throw that one away. That one didn't deserve to get tossed out with the rest. It had dried out perfectly.

A knock on my door broke my train of thought.

"Two minutes, Rosie."

I stood up and checked myself in the mirror. Hair…check. Make-up…check. Costume…check for now. I ran my hand over my flat stomach, knowing it wouldn't stay this way for long.

Medda had been more than understanding when I spilled everything to her the night I found out. From the way she held me as I cried and whispered reassurances, I had a feeling she may have been in my position before. I counted my blessings that I worked for her - any other place would have kicked me to the curb as soon as they found out.

"Rosie!"

I jumped out of my thoughts once more and exited my dressing room, rushing down the stairs. I got to the stage wings just as the announcer finished introducing us. The music started and we all twirled onto the stage. For a few minutes, I was able to forget about my problems.

As we danced, something off stage caught my eye. Davey was standing in the wings, watching. We smiled and twirled our way off the stage as the music ended.

"You looked great out there," Davey grinned, his hat scrunched in his hands.

"Thanks," I grinned. He was fidgeting more than usual. He was nervous about something.

"I was wondering when your next break was," he said.

"I don't have a number until later tonight." Medda gave me the noontime shows and the late night shows, since my morning sickness only seemed to come in the late afternoon. Go figure.

"Would you like to go on a walk with me?" he asked. "I thought maybe we could get some lunch."

I glanced over at Medda, who was standing nearby and had clearly heard the whole thing. She glanced over at me, her expression saying it all; Y _ou're a big girl. You can make your own choices. But you know your condition._ Typical Medda.

I swallowed and looked back at Davey. "I'd love to. Just let me change."

I had never seen someone grin so big at me in my life.

* * *

Poor Davey. It took him all that courage to ask me out I ruined it.

We'd had a lovely lunch at a place called Jacobi's and he bought my lunch. He'd told me all about his family and the newsies and school. He'd told me all about studying law to get ahead before he graduated. I tried to keep asking him questions so he didn't have time to ask me anything. I wasn't sure how I could answer anything.

"Enough about me," he'd finally said as we walked out of Jacobi's. "I want to hear about you."

"What do you want to know?" I had asked, my stomach turning. He'd been mooning over me for so long, I hated to destroy any image he had of me.

"When did you start working at Medda's?"

 _After mama and papa died in the fire_. "When I was about thirteen."

"You started dancing at thirteen?"

 _I started dancing at five around my living room_. "No, I helped the girls get dressed and mended costumes when the seamstresses were too busy."

"Did you always want to be a dancer?"

"Yes."

He seemed to know which questions to avoid - likely a byproduct of all his time with the newsies. He stayed away from questions about family and the past, which I was grateful for. It didn't take long before I had started giving him longer answers, and we strayed to other topics. He was easy to talk to and could carry on a conversation about anything with ease. The more we walked, the more comfortable he seemed with me.

Then it happened. Why hadn't I been paying attention to the time or my stomach?

We had been walking down Bowery, back toward Irving Hall when I had felt my mouth water. There was the familiar sharp, turning pain in my stomach.

"Oh no," I had said, my hand on my stomach.

"What is it?" But I had already left his side. I had run into a nearby alley and by the time he had gotten to my side, my lunch was on the ground. I coughed and spit, digging in my purse for my handkerchief.

"I'm so sorry," I had said.

"No, I'm sorry. Maybe it was something you ate? Perhaps I should have chosen a different place to eat."

How sweet. "No, no," I had said, wiping my mouth with the handkerchief. "Lunch was wonderful. I must be coming down with something."

"I am so sorry, Rosie."

A soft knock at my door brought me back to the present. Medda opened the door.

"I come bearing gifts," she said, walking in. She set a dish with a glass cover on my vanity.

"What's this?" I asked.

"Davey brought it for you and says he hopes you feel better," said Medda. "And hopes that when you feel better, you'll be up for another walk."

I closed my eyes and rubbed them.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know," I sighed.

"He deserves to know."

I chewed on my lip. He did deserve to know. "But this might be the very last time a boy ever tries to court me. In seven more months, they will run away at the sight of a child."

"The more you string him along, the harder it will be when the time comes."

I didn't say anything as I took the lid off the dish and inhaled the delicious aroma. Mrs. Jacobs must be a hell of a cook.

* * *

But the next time I saw Davey, I didn't tell him about my condition. He looked so happy to see me; I didn't want to say anything to make that grin go away. Pretty soon, he was coming to see me every day. Every day he would come to see me after selling out the morning edition and we would go for a walk until I had to be back at Medda's for the noontime show.

Then it came: the day when I couldn't fasten my skirt all the way. It had been getting tighter and tighter the past couple weeks, but as I stood in my dressing room, I couldn't fasten it all the way. I rushed to the seamstresses to see if they could help me, but they were so busy with a bunch of new costumes for a new act, they couldn't be bothered.

What was I going to do? Davey was going to be here any minute.

Medda found me sobbing in my dressing room and reminded me, once again, that the poor boy deserved to know. Any day now, he would figure it out, even if I didn't tell him.

Being the amazing woman she was, Medda scoured the theater until she found a dress in my new size. She helped me get into it and gave me a tight hug.

I took a deep breath as a stagehand told me that Davey was waiting for me.

I walked down the stairs and saw him giving me that grin again. The grin he always had when he saw me – like I was the only girl on earth and he hadn't seen me in weeks.

"Hi Rosie," he said.

"Hi Davey," I smiled.

He took my hand and we walked out the stage door and down the street on our usual route.

"I've got good news," he said. "My father is going back to work on Monday."

"That's great!" I grinned. I knew how stressed he had been about making enough money to feed his family. Now that pressure would be off him.

"Which means I'll be going back to school. Unfortunately, that means I won't be able to come see you in the mornings anymore." His grin faded at the thought.

"I understand," I said. Maybe this was meant to be.

"But don't worry. I'll still come see you when I can. It may not be every day…I will need time to catch up on my studies, but I will definitely come see you on the weekends. And perhaps on your day off, I will come see you after I get out of school."

"Davey," I said softly, stopping. Medda was right. I couldn't string him along anymore. "Davey, you've got this wonderful, bright future ahead of you. You're going to be the first in your family to graduate, you're going to become a lawyer…you've got a whole world of potential for your life." I paused. This was going to be harder than I thought. "But this is my life. This is all I'm ever going to be."

"I don't care." He took my hands in his. "Rosie, none of that matters to me. And one day…" his thumbs caressed the backs of my hands, "if you'll have me, maybe we can get married. And you won't have to work."

I felt a lump in my throat. The one man who wanted to marry me, and I couldn't let him.

"Davey, please…" I heard my voice crack and the tears stung my eyes.

"What's wrong?" His eyes and voice were filled with concern. He touched my cheek, his thumb running softly over it.

I closed my eyes. I couldn't look at him as I said the words. "I can't see you anymore."

"What?"

I shook my head. "Davey, you're a wonderful guy. And one day you're going to find a wonderful girl." I felt the tears run down my cheeks as I spoke. "And you're going to marry her. And you're going to have beautiful babies."

I opened my eyes, but I couldn't bear to look at him.

"Rosie, no."

"Davey—"

He pressed his lips to mine and I felt every nerve in my body tingle. I felt my heartbreak as I kissed him back, knowing it was the only kiss we could ever share. I let myself stay in his embrace for a few more moments, savoring the moment before the inevitable.

I pulled my lips back and lightly pushed him away. "Davey, I can't."

"Rosie, please."

"I have to go." I turned away and walked away as quickly as I could. I didn't look back. I couldn't look back. If I saw his face, I knew I'd be a goner.

* * *

Months passed. I didn't see Davey at all, but I knew he'd been there. I stayed well hidden when the hall was open, usually helping the seamstresses out or staying in my dressing room. But at least twice a week, I would return to my dressing room to find a single red rose tied with a red ribbon sitting on the floor outside the door. Soon, my entire mirror was framed in dried roses.

* * *

A few more months passed and soon I was holding the most beautiful baby boy I had ever seen. Willie was my whole world. I didn't care about anyone or anything else. My life was the fullest and happiest it had ever been.

Then one day I woke up and he was warm. Too warm. He cried all the time and I did my best to keep him cool and break his fever. Soon he developed a strange rash. I treated it with ointments like I had his other rashes, but this one didn't go away.

As soon as Medda saw Willie's rash, she called the doctor.

"It's scarlet fever all right," the doctor nodded, noting Willie's temperature.

"No." My voice came out as a whisper. If Medda hadn't had her arm around me, I'm sure I would have collapsed.

"Because he's only a baby, he can stay here, but I would keep him in his crib as much as possible."

"Is there anything you can do?" Medda asked.

The doctor sighed softly. "With other children, we usually try a blood letting, but because he's so little…I'm hesitant."

"Would it help at all?" I heard myself ask. The idea of watching him make my precious boy bleed killed me, but I wanted him to do anything he could to save Willie.

"It might."

I bit my lip and looked at my sweet boy sleeping in his crib. I slowly nodded.

The doctor might as well have cut me when he started bleeding Willie. Willie screamed at first. Tears blurred my view of my son as he cried. The quieter he grew as he bled, the more my tears flowed. Medda stayed with me through the whole thing. After Willie had fainted and his lips turned pale, the doctor bandaged his leg.

I sat in the rocking chair and cried as I held my sleeping son. I rocked him gently, singing him all the lullabies I could remember from my own mother. When those ran out, I sang him some of my favorite tunes that Medda sang. I sang him every song I could think of.

Feeling myself drift off to sleep, I carried him to his crib and laid him down. As I put a blanket over him, a song popped into my mind. I'd only heard it once one day when I was on my way to the market.

"Open the gates and seize the day. Stare down the odds and seize the day. Minute by minute, that's how you win it…"

* * *

This wasn't real. This couldn't be happening. I kept waiting for the moment where I would open my eyes and realize this had all been a nightmare. But that moment never came, even after a week. It didn't come when the undertaker took my baby away. It didn't come when we had to burn everything of Willie's. It didn't come as the priest stood at the graveside and said, "Dearly beloved…"

I didn't hear anything after those words. My eyes were locked on the tiny pine box covered with flowers. My baby was gone. I had nothing of his to remember him by. All that was left of him in the world was a small, framed photograph on my vanity and all the love in my heart.

"Rosie," Medda said softly. I looked at her and then up to the priest, who was looking expectantly at me. "It's time, honey."

If Medda hadn't been by my side, I wouldn't have been able to move. She walked me to the grave and I looked down. Maybe they would let me crawl into the grave. Maybe they would just bury me with my son.

My hand shook as I scooped up some dirt. I held it over the grave, but couldn't bear to let it go. I couldn't – I wouldn't – accept that my baby was gone. I closed my eyes and felt my body shake with sobs.

"We'll do it together," Medda said softly. I sniffed and nodded. She scooped up a handful of dirt and together we dropped them into the grave. She held me as she led me back to where we'd been standing. I cried the entire time. I could barely watch the line of people walk by, one by one, slowly burying my son.

Everyone from Irving Hall was there – from the Bowery Beauties to the seamstresses to the stagehands. Jack Kelly and Katherine Pulitzer had even showed up.

What was I going to do now? What was there to do now? I could hardly remember anything before Willie had been born. He had been such a bright spot in my life, nothing else mattered and nothing else existed. It was going to be him and me against the world forever. Now it was just me.

I was only vaguely aware of what was going on around me. I knew the priest had left, and I heard slowly dying murmurs behind me as people left.

"Rosie, it's time to go, honey," said Medda.

I didn't move.

"Come on, darlin'."

But…my son. I couldn't leave without my baby boy. I couldn't leave until I woke up. I refused. I refused to accept that this was real life.

"She hasn't slept in two days," I heard Medda murmur. "I can't remember the last time she ate."

"You go ahead. I'll make sure she gets home okay."

Something in the back of my mind told me that was a familiar voice, but I didn't care. I heard the crack of a whip and the sound of a hansom cab riding away.

A cool breeze blew and I shivered. I looked away from the grave for the first time in I didn't know how long. It was almost dark. Hadn't it been almost dinnertime just a few minutes ago? I sighed, figuring I should get back to the Hall before it was totally dark. I turned around, expecting to see an empty cemetery.

But there he was, standing a few yards away, his hands folded in front of him as if he'd only been standing there a few minutes, yet somehow I knew he'd been there the whole time. I stood there for a few moments, unable to move. What was I supposed to say? What was I supposed to do?

He walked towards me and held the crook of his elbow out to me.

"May I walk you home?" Davey asked.

I nodded and sniffed, wiping away the fresh tears that had fallen.

In silence, I took his arm and we walked out of the cemetery and down the street. He didn't say anything as we walked, which I was grateful for. How had he known what happened? How long had he known? Who told him? How had I not seen him at the burial?

We arrived at the stage door of Irving Hall and stopped, turning toward each other. He deserved an explanation. Where was I supposed to start? I had so much to say, yet no energy to say anything. Did he want to see me again? I wasn't ready to see anyone again. I wasn't sure if I had the strength to see or do anything ever again.

As I was wondering what to say to him, he took my hand and planted a soft kiss on my knuckles.

"Goodbye, Rosie," he said softly.

I didn't say anything as he turned around and walked away. He was a few yards away when I called out, "Davey?"

He turned around.

I bit my lip and shrugged. "I haven't eaten dinner yet. And I could use someone to talk to."

Davey smiled softly and walked back to me. He held out his elbow and I looped my hand through.

"I think Jacobi's is a safe choice," he said.

Although it was small and through a veil of tears, for the first time all week, I smiled. "I can't believe you came back."

Davey looked down at me. "I never left."


End file.
